Master into Lover

Chapter 1 Vendetta on a Snowy Night

‌On a snowy night, Xu Shu tucked his chin into his collar‌ , ‌huddled‌ against the stove.

‌His modern consciousness, awakened‌ in this ancient world of famine and war, had taken root in the body of a young man on the cusp of eighteen.

Perhaps due to malnutrition, This body frame was small and frail, making him look no older than thirteen or fourteen—like a boy who’d never grown up. ‌His slight stature had spared him‌ from capture and conscription, allowing him to flee south with his parents.

‌Yet fate was cruel.‌

Three days earlier, his family had passed near White Horse Temple, but his parents had mysteriously vanished from his side. With no money on him, Xu Shu had no choice but to wait at the temple, ‌hoping they’d return‌.

At first, the monks had been reluctant to take him in. Food was scarce, and ‌each extra mouth meant another risk of starvation. Fortunately, Xu Shu met ‌a compassionate monk named Jingchen‌, who ‌pleaded‌ with the abbot to let Xu Shu stay—‌for a few days, at least‌, with free food and shelter.

Xu Shu didn’t know how long this reprieve would last, ‌and the uncertainty gnawed at him.‌

Since the White Horse Temple's dormitories had been destroyed by war a few days earlier, Xu Shu could only huddle inside the Buddhist hall with all the monks, warming themselves by the fire. They listened warily to the sometimes dense, sometimes distant, sometimes approaching sound of horse hooves outside, ready to defend themselves or retreat to the snow-covered cliffs.

Besides the clatter of horse hooves outside, the commotion within the Buddhist temple also unnerved Xu Shu. Every night, the temple held a ‌disturbing‌ ritual: the monks placed an ostrich egg in the hall’s center, then ‌chanting and dancing‌ around it.

This was unlike any Buddhist temple Xu Shu had ever encountered in the modern world. He believed this ritual concealed a hidden secret, and for this reason, he was equally wary of the monks' harm.

"Dudududu!"

The sound of horse hooves galloped toward the mountainside.

Beside Xu Shu, five or six warrior-monks‌ with suddenly stood up, some drawing swords, others axes or sticks.

‌"What’s all the fuss?"‌ the abbot, seated cross-legged before the altar, ‌muttered‌ as he opened his eyes."Panic at every turn，How can accomplish anything big? Jingchen, go out and see who this person is and what their purpose is. Be polite to them."

"Yes, Master."

A tall, kind-looking monk in his early 30s stood up from Xu Shu's side and clasped his hands together in the direction of the abbot.

Before Jingchen reached the gate of the Buddhist hall, which was barricaded with wooden sticks, four or five horses had already arrived at the entrance of White Horse Temple, halted, and the riders dismounted.

Xu Shu mused, 'Why build a temple on a gentle slope when a cliff would serve better? On a cliff, it would be easier to defend and harder to attack.'

"Brother, there are indeed people in this temple. Let's go in and get two bowls of hot water."

"D*mn it! If I keep running, I'm going to freeze to death."

"Hello, is anyone there?"

Thud! Thud! THUD!

After a few rapid knocks, Jingchen creaked open the hall's door. A gust of wind and snow swept in from the darkness, first enveloping Jingchen's body, then hurling itself at the group gathered around the fire pit

When the bitter wind touched Xu Shu, he shuddered.

But he hadn't noticed that, like the others, he had already stood alert. While the others drew their weapons, he pondered where he would be safest if a conflict arose—definitely the Eight Immortals Table（An altar where eight gods can sit） behind the abbot. The underside of the table wasn't illuminated by the oil lamp, making it a perfect place for a Short stature like him to hide.

"D*mn it! I thought they were fellow monks, but they turned out to be a bunch of bald guys. Great monks, I'm not here to fight you." A booming voice with an exotic accent rang out from the doorway.

"That's right, monks, what on earth are you planning to do with your weapons?" another voice echoed.

When the wind and snow subsided, Xu Shu could clearly see that the people entering were five sword-wielding Taoists, all tall and imposing, likely from the north.

Hearing they weren't going to fight, the monks relaxed their guard slightly. Some sheathed their swords and sat back down by the fire to warm themselves.

"If the five of you merely seek rest and warmth, Jingchen, give them tea and send them off." Abbot Fang Zhang sat motionless in the temple hall, eyes closed. Yet his voice carried as though he had projected it with inner force—so clearly that even amid the din, Xu Shu could distinguish every word.

"So this is the Abbot—a master of internal martial arts! How could a band of deserters have burned down several dormitories? Now, twenty to thirty members of the entire sect are forced to sleep in the temple hall." Xu Shu was puzzled. Regardless, discovering the abbot's kung fu skills gave him much-needed peace of mind. Unconsciously, he took two more steps towards the abbot.

“Big Monk, you're such a tightwad! Just two bowls of hot water?!”

The scarred, fifty-something man in the lead complained, but without any ill intent. He gulped down the hot water from Jingchen, stroked his frosted collar, and burst into laughter."Big Monk,Can't we stay here for one night?".

‌"Venerable Guest,"‌ Jingchen clasped his hands together. "Bai Ma Temple's rooms were destroyed days ago—the repairs aren't done yet. If you five insist on staying, you'll have to sleep in the stables. But at least you can gather fire there."

Seeing Jingchen's calm demeanor, the Scarface Man glanced at the crowded Buddhist monks and smiled, "I don't want to be crammed in with a bunch of stinky monks either. Okay, brothers, after you finish your hot water, let's go to the stables. Monks, No offense—don’t take offense!"

His last words were directed towards the abbot.

The abbot kept his eyes closed and nodded, as if he knew someone was speaking to him.

Afterwards, all five received a bowl of hot water. As they drank, the sound of horse hooves could be heard outside the door. A single person could be heard galloping towards them.

All five of them stopped drinking, their faces darkening. Then, they simultaneously threw their earthenware bowls, making a crackling sound inside the temple.

The monks shook their heads and frowned.

Jingchen spoke again: "Donor... Hey, you can't break bowls in the Buddhist hall.It's blasphemy, and bowls are valuable... Also, don't fight or kill in the Buddhist hall. The Tathagata Buddha will be angry."

‌"Monk, no more chit-chat—our enemies won’t wait !"‌

One of the square-faced men reached into his pocket and tossed a large piece of silver to Jingchen, who was squatting on the ground picking up the broken bowls.

As the square-faced man spoke, three of them had already drawn their swords, ready for battle.

Only a young man fixed on Xu Shu.

Their eyes met—just a heartbeat—yet Xu Shu deciphered the man's fear.

Xu Shu thought to himself, ‌"He's staring at me? Is he expecting monks to protect children? Does he even know I’m NOT one?"

Sure enough, the young man only glanced at Xu Shu twice before his gaze finally settled on the Eight Immortals Table in front of the abbot.

He, too, was looking for a place to hide.

Esounding crash!

The door was kicked open.

‌The blizzard howled through the shattered threshold. When the gale finally subsided, a man in a gray Taoist robe stood frozen upon the broken doorway—looked to be in his thirties.‌

Xu Shu had thought Jing Chen—towering at around six feet—was already imposing. But this man dwarfed Jing Chen.

Though dressed in plain robes, a jade bracelet gleamed faintly on his wrist, hinting at wealth beyond ordinary measure. His face, smooth as polished jade, bore none of the haggard features of someone who’d known poverty—not the kind endured by the war-stricken poor.

Yet his expression was glacial.

His expression was glacial—a bloodstained sword gripped in hand, planted against the threshold like a judge of death, radiating an oppressive stillness that made the air itself seem to thicken.

"D*mn you cowards! You massacred the entire Niujia Village? Now you're coming to the White Horse Temple to seek forgiveness from the Buddha?"

The man's eyes were red as he roared in a deep, hoarse voice: "Abbot, these five people not only massacred the entire Niujia Village! They also killed my father. You are not allowed to shield them!"

"Amitabha."

The abbot had no time to intervene.‌

‌Like a predatory cat, the man tore through the five with terrifying speed. His Qing Gong mastery rendered him untouchable—one moment he was slashing from the east, the next he vaulted skyward, his blade a silver storm in the temple’s dim light. Swords clashed, sabers flashed, and for a breathless moment, the hall became a whirlwind of steel and shadow.

Seeing this, the monks quickly drew their swords and formed a protective line in front of the abbot.

Jing Chen grabbed Xu Shu by the collar and threw him behind the pile of dry firewood.

Xu Shu could see that the man's swordsmanship and lightness skills were both formidable, but these five men were no ordinary individuals.

‌In reality, under normal lighting, this man might not have stood a chance against the scar-faced opponent. But now, the dimly lit hall was a maze of towering pillars, crisscrossing beams, and looming Buddha statues—all obscuring his movements. With the agility of a cat and the erratic flight of a bat, he left the five men flailing blindly, their swings missing their mark.‌

The more Xu Shu watched, the more envious he became. "With this kind of Qing Gong, I'd be invincible in the world. At least no one could catch me if I ran away from a fight. Now, I live under someone else's roof, sweeping temple floors every day. The monks won't even let me see them practice. How amazing would it be to become his disciple, master Qing Gong, and roam the world freely!"

"Oh? By the way, this's the martial arts world ?"